


(we crossed the line) it was on this time

by harperuth



Series: (with you) i got to get bolder [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Dom/sub, M/M, Ruined Orgasms, rung gets an inch of initiative and takes a mile, the armor is very incidental this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25457449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: “I’d like to touch you, this time,” Rung said.Minimus paused, digits tightening on his washing cloth. Rung’s shoulder joints were pulled back, had been since he’d entered the hab. Minimus watched him through the haze of falling cleanser.- - -Or, Minimus gets fragged, and the Magnus armor helps.
Relationships: Minimus Ambus/Rung, Minimus Ambus/Ultra Magnus
Series: (with you) i got to get bolder [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726693
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	(we crossed the line) it was on this time

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to james and dez, for making me care these two So Much
> 
> thank you a thousand times over to k for reading this over and tweaking it enough to make it just right.
> 
> title is from 'cut to the feeling' by carly rae jepsen

“I’d like to touch you, this time,” Rung said.

Minimus paused, digits tightening on his washing cloth. Rung’s shoulder joints were pulled back, had been since he’d entered the hab. Minimus watched him through the haze of falling cleanser.

Full wash, every third cycle.

“I—” Minimus cycled his intake. He made himself go back to washing, “Okay?”

“You don’t have to agree,” Rung said. Minimus didn’t look at him, “I expressed what I want, but it’s only a request.”

“Hm,” Minimus knew well enough to indicate that he was listening. He focused on wiping the cleanser away from his plating, checking for marrs underneath.

“What do you want, Minimus?” Rung asked quietly. Minimus almost didn’t hear him over the washrack. 

Almost.

_What you want doesn’t matter._

Faint, but still there.

Minimus switched his washrack to rinse, studiously freeing his frame from the slick of cleanser. He turned the washrack off. The sounds of Rung’s frame sprang back into his audials.

Minimus finally looked at him and shrugged, “You can touch me.”

Rung’s mouth pulled down, barely noticeable. Minimus tracked the movement. _Always a disappointment_.

“You can tell me no,” Rung stressed.

Minimus moved onto checking his reflexive materials. He ran his hydraulic diagnostic at the same time, “I know. I—”

His spark cycled a little faster. His fans clicked on, “Touching seems...nice.”

His diagnostics came back with a small alert about lowered pressure in his left ankle hydraulic in his armor. Minimus noted the alert and set a long decay note to see Ratchet. He enacted the patch program, letting it run in silence for a few kliks.

Eventually he stood, bringing his optics to Rung’s, perfectly on level with him, “You should touch me. Right now.”

Rung’s optics brightened. Minimus kept his own on them, plating shivering when digits skated across his chassis. Rung stepped closer, air from his fans hitting Minimus’s still drying plating.

Minimus swayed closer, optics half-shuttered. Rung let their nasal ridges brush, then pulled back, pushing at Minimus’s chassis, “Go. I’ll follow.”

Minimus cycled his intake, and went.

He supposed Rung’s request for the positioning of the armor made sense now. Usually Minimus kept it sitting upright as possible, but Rung had asked he bring its hips forward, knees spread. Minimus looked at it now, the careless breadth of its sprawl knocking something loose in his vents. 

He trailed his servos up its thighs, dipping his digits into seams, up and down. Up and down. He watched his servos move and didn’t jump when Rung stepped up to press along his back, “What do you want with the armor today?”

“Mm,” Minimus let himself fall back into Rung, just a little. Rung held steady, “Get spiked.”

Minimus had been thinking about it for a few cycles. It was why he’d kept a layer on. Rung had seen _him_ , and now he wanted Rung to see what he could _do_.

_Can’t do much else_ , the voice sneered. 

Minimus ignored it. Rung’s digits were playing with the small seams in his abdominal plating, which was much more preferable to focus on. Rung kept going, until he hooked his servos under Minimus’s hip plates, thumbs stroking just at the edge of his modesty panelling, “Face me again?”

“Yes,” Minimus squirmed, trying not to press up into Rung’s touch.

Rung’s face buried itself in the side of his neck cabling. Minimus couldn’t vent, the damp promise of Rung’s mouth so close to him. He felt Rung smile, and then he was let go. Rung’s voice was lofty, “Up you get.”

Minimus was loath to leave Rung’s touch behind, but he had an instruction. That was enough to soothe any qualm he had. Minimus went to pull away, but Rung followed, keeping at least one servo on him while he got comfortable.

Minimus couldn’t help but smile down at Rung once he was settled astride the armor’s hips. Rung smiled back.

_Always did need help taking on Ultra Magnus._

Minimus opened his lateral port cover, unspooling his cable. Rung’s servo stilled his, “Allow me.”

Rung manipulated the armor’s wrist port and plugged Minimus in. Minimus stared at him, optics cycling. As soon as the visual input hit a patch in his deeper processing capabilities, phantom pain laced up his side from his port. Minimus curled forward, a small noise escaping him.

“Alright?” Rung lifted his servos away. Minimus felt their loss immediately.

“Yes,” Minimus gasped out, but the comfort of sinking into the armor’s surface level programming wasn’t there, “Touch me again?”

Rung answered with his servos, soothing them over Minimus’s chassis, skirting down his pelvic plating to rub at his thighs. Minimus vented through the prickle of pain still emanating from his port. He pushed the input to the side and focused in on the armor, sliding its panel aside and pressurizing its spike.

Minimus was pulled out of the armor’s coding by a sudden shock from his sensor net. He looked down. Rung looked up at him, the barest hint of a smile crooking his mouth, servo cupping the entirety of Minimus’s modesty paneling. Minimus cycled his optics, “You have bigger servos than I realized.”

“Thank you,” Rung replied primly. Minimus pressed forward experimentally. Rung’s digits twitched, pressing harder, just catching on his panel seam, “I’d like to prepare you, if you’d like.”

Minimus’s panel slid aside without his active permissions. Rung’s digits pressed up into his mesh. Minimus cycled his optics, “Ah.”

Rung walked forward the last crucial mechanometer so his shoulder was pushing at the armor over Minimus’s spark, digits rubbing softly over him. Minimus’s vents became shaky, his processor fighting through near over-stimulation; Rung’s digits tracing around his valve rim, Rung pressing against his spark, Rung’s optics so intent on his face, prickling pain from his port still.

“Tell me what you like,” Rung said, and there was the barest hint of static over ‘you.’ Minimus shook his head. Rung’s optics sharpened, “Tell me.”

“I—”

_You’ll take anything, won’t you_.

Minimus groaned, hips twitching forward into Rung’s palm, “Node.”

Rung slid the tips of his digits up to glide over Minimus’s node, back and forth, “Like this? Is this how you touched your node when I asked you before?”

A flash fire of charge rocked through Minimus. Over the comm. Rung _remembered_. Minimus turned over an oft revisited text string in his processor: Rung...wanted?

Rung’s digits kept up their motions; his optics kept their stare. Minimus stared back, vents picking up pace. His hips rolled, just once.

Rung moved quicker than Minimus could track, free servo coming up and slamming Minimus back into the armor’s chest, spread wide over his chest. Over his spark. His other servo pressed down and up, two digits in Minimus’s valve before he could even register the existence of his calipers. Rung’s optics were still on his, “Don’t move.”

Minimus’s fans roared up to their highest setting and his valve clenched. Rung’s optics were impossible to look away from. Minimus nodded.

_So easy, so desperate for direction. You need a firm hand._

“You move when I move you,” Rung said, pumping his digits out and into Minimus’s valve, “Understand?”

“Yes,” Minimus choked out, valve calipers cycling with no perceptible pattern, just desperate for Rung’s touch.

“That’s right,” Rung said. His digits moved lazily, in and out. In and out. Minimus relaxed into it, optic shutters falling half closed. As soon as he did, Rung hooked his digits, pulling Minimus out and up. By his _valve_.

“Slag!” Minimus jerked, following Rung’s digits. His servos fell onto Rung’s shoulders, gripping for balance. They stared at each other. Rung pushed forward a bit, bumping their nasal ridge’s together. Minimus’s vents caught. His mouth tingled in anticipation.

Rung pulled back, “Onto the spike now.”

Minimus tried to catch his processor up. The patch program was still running and Rung was still watching him and his valve clenched against nothing, newly empty, and it took him a moment. His vents ached with the force of air being drawn through them.

Rung’s servos gripped his hips. Minimus felt like a new-forge learning to dance. His servos squeezed Rung’s shoulders, “Okay.”

Rung helped lift him over the spike. Minimus beat him to positioning it against his valve entrance, his processor shying away from the continued pain pulsing from his port. Rung’s mouth pulled down, just a bit.

_Disappointment, disappointment, disappointment._

Rung pulled him down onto the spike. 

Minimus groaned, his calipers dialling wide, nodes sparking against the answering charge of the armor’s spike. Rung kept pulling him until he was fully seated in the armor’s lap. Minimus shuddered.

“Remarkable,” Rung said. Minimus sat up straighter.

_The armor is remarkable, isn’t it?_

Rung pulled him up, then down again. His optics finally freed Minimus’s, dropping to his array. He kept moving Minimus, up and down, grinding forward and back. Minimus shook, charge building quickly.

Rung pulled him off the spike.

“What— I—?” Minimus tried to curl up, tried to bring a servo to his node. He was _close_ , slag it all.

Rung wouldn’t let him move, optics staring at his array. Minimus knew he was clenching against nothing, his node blinking fitfully, more lit than not. Rung’s optics glowed brighter, “Look at you.”

“Rung,” Minimus gasped, “I want—”

Rung’s optics snapped back up to his face. Minimus shivered under their weight. Rung smiled, “What do you want?”

“I want to overload,” Minimus whispered. Rung pushed up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Minimus’s face burned.

“Good,” Rung murmured, and the single glyph was a lightning strike up Minimus’s backstrut.

Rung guided him back onto Magnus’s spike, picking back up his guiding rhythm, “You have to tell me. Tell me as soon as you start overloading.”

“I will,” Minimus said, letting himself go, giving over to Rung. Rung was going to move him. Rung was going to take care of him. Rung was going to let him overload.

_No initiative._

Minimus offlined his optics and let himself feel. Magnus’s spike was stretching his valve, pressing the mesh to its limits and massaging each and every node. Rung’s digits bit at his hips, their grip tight and demanding. Charge built in his system.

The patch program slowly cycled down to a halt.

Minimus’s optics onlined so fast that he was fairly certain a few filaments burnt out, “ _Rung_.”

His valve contracted, overload just beginning to flow through his circuits. 

Rung _yanked_ him up and off Magnus’s spike. Minimus didn’t have a chance to make a noise in mourning before Rung’s mouth crashed onto his, hot glossa pushing past his lips. Minimus shuddered and clenched against nothing, overload tingling over his frame, array neglected and unsatisfied.

Rung kissed him through every wave, every shiver and chime of his plating, every hard clench of his valve. Minimus collapsed against him, sinking into the kiss. Minimus had spent untold groon wondering what it would feel like, and all he could think in the moment was that Rung kissed like a miracle.

Minimus couldn’t remember the last time he had been kissed through an overload.

“So good,” Rung muttered when he finally pulled back, “Wonderful, absolutely perfect for me.”

“Rung,” Minimus whispered, sensornet still misfiring back and forth all over his frame.

Rung disconnected him from the armor. It’s spike was still out. Minimus couldn’t stop staring while he was led to the washracks. Rung’s servos smoothed over his plating, “A rinse, Minimus, dearling. I made you messy, just a rinse.”

“A rinse,” Minimus echoed, watching the armor’s spike slowly depressurize automatically. Something in him wanted to scream, to rail against the—the disrespect of it all, but he was so tired in the wake of his overload. His processor felt slow and focused on one thing: Rung.

Rung wiped him down gently, then coaxed his panel closed. Minimus leaned heavily against him, spark faltering in its cycle when Rung allowed it. The washrack turned off, and Rung’s glyphs came back into Minimus’s audials, “There we go, absolutely lovely, dearling. That’s perfect, let me hold you up. Let me take care of you.”

Rung started his denta maintenance, but skipped a step. Minimus frowned, lifting a servo to close over Rung’s wrist joint, mumbling around the polishing brush, “No, lemme—”

“I’m sorry, dearling,” Rung let him take the polishing brush, “Can you tell me each step? So I can do it next time?” 

Minimus tried to focus his optics, processor tripping over and over _Rung wanted Rung wanted?_ The text string couldn't gain any purchase and he had to cancel the unending loop. Rung kept him talking through the rest of his denta maintenance, soft murmurings back and forth that laid over Minimus’s plating, warming him from the outside in. Minimus didn’t try standing up straight, letting Rung’s embrace support him. Rung shuffled him over to his berth.

“Wha—?” Minimus managed a muzzy response to Rung crawling into berth beside him.

“Shh,” Rung dragged his nasal ridge down Minimus’s, pressing a single, soft kiss to his lips, “I’ve got you. Don’t worry, let me hold you.”

“Alrigh',” Minimus didn’t have it in him to fight. Rung pulled him into his arms, lowering the lights. Minimus let himself slide forward, pressing his plating against Rung’s.

He watched the armor over Rung’s shoulder, it’s biolights glowing softly in the dark room.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me about robots on twitter [@floralpunkcfb](https://twitter.com/floralpunkcfb)


End file.
